


His Smile

by mythicalbi



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 01:38:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4900567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythicalbi/pseuds/mythicalbi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky loved him. That was his name, wasn't it? It's what he called him, "Bucky". It fit him, he decided. It sounded like happiness and inside jokes and drinking at the bar trying to chat up some dames and running with Steve to the-<br/>Steve.<br/>That was his name. Steven Grant Rogers. But Bucky called him Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Smile

He could remember his smile.  
He smiled at him when he said "hello" and he smiled when he said "goodnight". He would smile when he was done laughing and sometimes he would smile for no reason at all.  
Bucky loved him. That was his name, wasn't it? It's what he called him, "Bucky". It fit him, he decided. It sounded like happiness and inside jokes and drinking at the bar trying to chat up some dames and running with Steve to the-  
Steve.  
That was his name. Steven Grant Rogers. But Bucky called him Steve.  
Steve had a beautiful smile, and a laugh that was the most beautiful music to Bucky's ears. Steve was beautiful, inside and out. Steve was good, he was pure, he was honour and loyalty and bravery and joy. 

Bucky sat on the floor, it was cold and uncomfortable but it helped him focus on the now. Remembering hurt too much. It made him feel things he hadn't felt in a long time and he had no idea how to manage them. He tried ignoring his thoughts but they were loud, banging and screaming in his mind, demanding to be heard, until he had no choice but to listen. They would tell him stories of cold and of pain, stories of murder and doubt and fear and sickness.  
Then there were stories of him, of Steve. Bucky hated those. They always left a bitter-sweet feeling deep in his heart .And he could never he sure if they were actual memories or just his hopeful imagination. Did Steve really looked at him like that and gently touched his face before brushing his lips against Bucky's like his mind was telling him, or did he simply make all that up?  
Bucky was numb. He was feeling too much but at the same time nothing at all.  
He wanted to run, to scream, to hide. He wanted to cry. But he couldn't do any of those, he simply sat on the floor and stared at the wall in front of him. It was covered in scratches and dirt. There was a tiny hole at the bottom and sometimes Bucky would get the urge to stick his finger in it. 

He could remember his touch. It was warm against his skin. Steve was touching his neck, gently pulling at the hairs there. Steve pulled him close and whispered something, he couldn't remember what, but he remembered the feeling of something warm and bright in his heart. He could remember Steve kissing him, their lips meeting and fitting together perfectly. He remembered Steve pushing him down on the mattress and climbing on top of him. He could remember his smile. He was grinning and Bucky thought he never looked more beautiful. 

Bucky woke up and his heart was aching. It was yearning for something, someone. For Steve. Bucky couldn't go to him, he knew that. Not after almost killing him.  
And yet his stupid heart wouldn't listen, it kept begging him to see Steve, to talk to him and to scoop him up in his arms and never let him go again. His legs moved before his brain could catch up. He ran out and stole the car closest to him, Bucky had to see him, he had to see Steve right now. He made his way to the apartment he knew Steve was staying at and stopped. He could go up to Steve and apologize and hug him and kiss him and-  
No, he couldn't. He caused him too much pain, he had to leave. But his legs wouldn't move, they stayed put keeping him where he was, simply staring at the door to Steve's apartment.  
The the door opened and Steve walked out. He looked healthy, like he recovered well from what happened to him. From what Bucky did to him. Steve couldn't see him and Bucky realized he had two options before him. He could turn away and leave, he would never come back. He would leave Steve alone and let him move on with his life without Bucky messing it all up. Or he could take a few steps forward into the light of the street light. He could let Steve see him and he could be with him. They could work thing out. Steve would help him remember. Steve would help him recover and together they could try to get back what they once had.  
Steve climbed on a bike. Bucky had to make his decision right now. To leave or to stay. To be alone or to be with Steve. To disappear or to come forward and force Steve into taking care of him, whether he wanted to or not.  
Bucky turned back and walked away.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I have ever written in my entire life so I would just like to apologize and thank you if you somehow managed to read he whole thing.


End file.
